Relenting
by amor-remanet
Summary: Sirius finds something interesting on a picnic and wants Remus to come see it. Remus is reluctant and there is romping in the leaves. Mild SLASH, RLSB. Feedback welcome!


**Disclaimer: **JK Rowling's characters still aren't mine...but I promise to put them back where I found them.

**A/N: **Written for day two of LJ's Tell Me A Kiss R/S challenge; the prompt was an Asian-looking garden.

"C'mon, Moony! You've gotta see this; it's _brilliant_!"

Sirius, ever the enthusiast, has only just come back from…_wherever_, and, without so much as a word to Lily, James, or Peter, he takes Remus by the wrist and pulls him away. It's supposed to be an autumn picnic, celebrating things all around – James is going to propose to Lily…soon, Remus has a job, Sirius got into the Auror training program, and Peter finally moved out of his mum's house (fifteen months after graduation, and only with his friends' assistance). But Remus doesn't sigh acquiescingly like Lily, nor does he complain like Peter and James; he simply lets Sirius drag him off. After all, it's only by Sirius' good graces that he has a place to live right now, and he's already stolen Sirius' scarf and sweater to protect against the cold. Going to see some intriguing discovery in _wherever_ is a pitifully small price for his warmth at Sirius' expense. _Besides_…he's grinning like he has a big secret to tell, and his enthusiastic gait keeps switching from running to skipping like a nance and back to running; he moves fast enough that Remus is practically horizontal and still can't keep up.

Running to keep up wakes up a childishness in him, a certain impishness that he was _sure_ he'd buried in the process of growing up. Sirius hasn't lost it, of course, but then, he's a ray of sunshine and a warm cup of tea on a freezing morning…he's grown up, yes, but…he'll always be somewhat childish in this special, Sirius way. Suddenly, though, all the leaf piles are too enticing for Remus, and the only thing keeping him from lunging headlong into one is that Sirius is stronger and still towing him along the autumnal pathways. If only he'd change into Padfoot…Merlin, Remus could use a romp in the leaves with an oversized dog right now.

And, surprisingly enough, he gets it too. Abruptly as coming into the glacial flat from a hot shower, Sirius stops running on the crest of a hill, breathing deep the autumn crispness. In his usual gracelessness, Remus can't stop, so he runs into Sirius, and the momentum's still there. And, since Sirius still has his hand, they topple forward, musically moving into the hill's sliding curve. They roll downwards – Sirius is forced to let go of him, but they keep moving as one – and land in a large pile of leaves. Remus comes in second, as always, and, when his head has cleared from the self-indulgent rush, he finds himself on top of Sirius' chest. Laughing decadently, Sirius puts his hands on Remus' waist.

"Was hoping you'd do that," he chuckles.

"…What?"

Before Sirius responds, he rolls over. Rather than laying on Remus, as he had done to him, he straddles his chest and pins the werewolf by his splayed arms. At the confusion on Remus' face, he grins with devious narcissism. Seemingly unaware of Remus' growing blush, he brings his face dangerously close to his companion's, and Remus feels his face glow redder than the leaves.

"_Pinned ya_," he taunts mischievously.

"Yes," Remus sighs, smiling softly. "It would appear you have."

"Wanna try and get me?"

"Not really…but I'd like my arms to work _properly_ tomorrow, please."

"Okay…chase me then?"

Remus cocks an eyebrow. "…Excuse me?"

Sirius laughs again and sits up…he's a cocky bastard sometimes, and has no concept of personal space, but…_Merlin_, his hair shines attractively in the sunlight. With the same, devilish smirk that he's perfected over the years, he rolls off and shifts into Padfoot, yipping playfully. Once Remus has scrambled to his feet and pulled down the too-big-for-him jumper, the dog runs off. Bloody hell…he _knows_ that Remus can't run fast and is nowhere near as athletic as him and James – two former Quidditch players versus a scrawny werewolf…there's really no contest. Why is he _doing_ this? Probably thinks it's cute, or, at the very least, terribly amusing.

Sighing, Remus adjusts the scarf – Sirius' last birthday present from Lily, black to match his hair, leather jacket, and that accursed motorcycle – and runs off, following Padfoot's impatient barking. He catches up, _finally_…only for Padfoot to run off again, and the leaves are slicker down here, so running's harder for him. Eventually, he has to pause, doubling over, grabbing his knees, and gasping like a fish for breath. He hears the laughter of nearby kids and the wolfish part of him vaguely considers hexing them…but they're just children, Muggle children too, and Remus wins out; they don't know any better, after all. Groaning, he heaves himself up and returns to the chase. It goes on for a good twenty minutes, and he finally, after pushing aside two large, defiantly leaf-coated branches, finds Sirius under a vine-laced pagoda of old wood, nestled between branches and cleared out space.

He grins and cocks his head to say, "Come here." Remus obeys, and is quickly hugged around the waist again, pressed against Sirius' chest and blushing _again_.

"Merlin, Moony," Sirius purrs delicately. "You'd never make it as a _real_ wolf."

"_Pads_…" Remus sighs. "What is this place, anyway?"

"Didn't I tell you? Isn't it _brilliant_?"

"…Well, you said that much."

"Isn't it, though? Must've been here for _ages_ before I found it again…"

"I bet."

A wind sweeps through the clearing, stinging through the scarf and the sweater, and the thin layer of sweat on Remus' forehead doesn't help anything, only makes everything colder. Unwillingly, he shivers, which makes Sirius grab onto him tighter, like he's actually afraid. Shaking his head, Remus banishes the thought immediately. _Please_. Sirius Black, _afraid_…it's not even laughable because it's so absurd. He is quite warm though, and Remus relents slightly, leaning closer into the hug.

"_Moony_," Sirius breathes. "You're _freezing_."

"Am n-not," Remus retorts. Damn it, why do his teeth have to chatter now?

"You're positively sub-zero, mate. Take my coat."

"B-but…I already have your sc-scarf and your jumper…"

"Remus John Lupin, I will not take 'no' for an answer!"

Suddenly, Remus feels a pair of warm fingers under his chin, and, as they lift it up, he hopes the warmth on his face is just from them…knowing him, it's probably not. Compulsively, he averts his eyes, and…yes, it is _definitely_ not just Sirius' fingers making his face warm. Why must he always blush when anyone shows the least bit of concern for him? No one else he knows does that, not even Peter and he's supposed to have the least social graces, if Sirius and James' visions of the world coincide at all with reality. Trembling, Remus loses control of his mouth and it falls open, leaving a space between chapped lips for the warmth to get out.

But it doesn't get out: Sirius, taking Remus completely by surprise, presses his mouth to the unlocked opportunity; Remus can't see his own eyes, but he feels their desire to break off of his face coursing through his limbs, blood, and nerves. He knows that he probably shouldn't do this – it's bad enough that he's a gay werewolf, but he's come to terms with having two glaring red marks on the Social Outcast List (and several smaller, black ones, like "nervous" and "too intellectual). He doesn't need to be a best mate-snogging gay werewolf too. Does he want it? Of course he _wants_ it, but…he shouldn't have it. Right as he thinks of pulling away, Sirius exhales warmly into his mouth; he says something Remus can't hear, but he knows it from the sensation: "_Moony_." And he stays instead.


End file.
